With a high pain tolerance. I’d been known to limp home after a wipeout. We were a few hundred yards from the cabin when she punched me on the shoulder.
“Race ya!” She sped off.
I could only shake my head before I raced after her. I passed her—sort of—easily and reached the cabin first.
I stopped to stretch, but she darted up the porch and ran inside, her laughter filtering out. “I’m going to shower,” she yelled from inside. “Wanna conserve water?”
I’d been about to drop for some pushups, but the inner debate over whether to finish my workout or fuck a hot chick in the shower was over in a heartbeat. Rushing in the cabin and up the stairs, I was about to detour for a condom when I spied a trail of foil packets leading to the guest bathroom.
When had she…
I didn’t care. Snagging one on my way, I was naked before I hit the bathroom.
Chapter 8
Tilly
“I think we should go out to eat tonight,” Flynn said.
I dipped my fishing rod, hoping to entice a bite. No luck. “Sure.”
The fishing boat rocked with the waves. We were in the middle of the lake, and instead of nervous tendrils twisting my gut, I was as relaxed as I’d ever been. I still didn’t know how to swim, but Flynn had bought me a life jacket and refused to let me pay him back. It was already Saturday and he’d been treating me to my bucket-list vacation all week.
Stellar sex—a few times a day. Hiking, done. Fishing, done. Fishing out of a boat—I hadn’t caught a damn thing but done. Swimming in the lake. Flynn had worked with me on some swimming strokes, then given up, but he was determined to teach me something. He’d made me promise to take lessons when I returned home. I’d only accepted because now I wouldn’t be saving every penny for the adult resource center.
“I don’t think they’re biting today. Let’s head back.” Flynn packed up. He fished and maneuvered the boat like he came out here every weekend.
Maybe he did. After almost a whole week together, I still didn’t know much about him. But I knew him. He was a perfectionist, for some reason I hadn’t figured out yet. If he found any tiny task to be done in the cabin, he was on it. That giant truck of his carried a massive toolbox in the back. I loved watching him tinker. The subtle tension in his face eased as he lost himself in the task. He liked to take care of himself, but I’d noticed more carbs sneaking onto his plate and he was no longer killing himself with every morning workout. He’d even worn athletic shorts and a performance T all day yesterday instead of his usual jean shorts and polo.
His job must be stressful for him to have so visibly relaxed since arriving a week ago. When I’d first seen him at Arcadia, he’d worn his suit like a second skin—or so it had seemed at the time. But I bet if I crossed paths with him again, Flynn would be pulling at his collar or twitching his cuffs like he couldn’t wait to shed his apparel.
When we retired to the cabin in the evenings, we didn’t just go to bed, nor did we each talk about ourselves. Instead, we had Iron Man and Captain America marathons. I’d even produced Suicide Squad and he’d requested that I put the swimsuit on again so he could rip it off—with his teeth.
My Puddin’.
We reached the dock and he helped me off. I took care of the tackle while he got the boat hooked to the pickup. Tomorrow we’d go back to regular life, so he had to return the boat tonight.
I couldn’t fight the heavy feeling of this week coming to an end. My resolve to keep everyone at a distance was fading around Flynn. My mission to pay back my debts had been accomplished. Well, except for my school loans, but those just cut into my fun money more than anything.
It was daunting to think about talking about my life with someone. After the hot tub incident, I’d been prepared for Flynn to ask. Only he hadn’t.
Disappointment sat like lead in my belly. Like me, he seemed to be making the most of our time together but not digging too deep so we could part ways.
Did I want to go back to a Flynn-less life?
What about him? He didn’t seem worse for wear after spending a week with Crazy J. Other than being more relaxed, he laughed more every day we were together. Each superhero movie we watched spurred conversations about what we’d played with as kids. It was a safe topic and we didn’t venture beyond our experiences with the toys.
I’d tried to learn his favorites. Work. Candy? He didn’t eat candy. I’d die without Hot Tamales. Color? Whatever he stripped off me. I couldn’t pick just one color. Pet? I’d said cat and changed the subject.
After everything was put away, I went into the cabin and up to my room. Well, his room. My stuff had migrated over by Tuesday, when it had become apparent we were tearing through the stash of condoms.
I dug through my clothes to find something suitable for eating out. Flynn’s footsteps landed behind me and a smile twitched my lips. He liked me bent over, and I liked that he liked it.
I straightened with an armload of clothing. “What kind of place are we going to? I need to know what to wear.”
He kissed my neck and I leaned into him. “Wear whatever.”
Eying my linen shorts and plain shirts, I was grateful I’d packed something without an emblem of some kind. Standing out in a crowd was my thing, but with Flynn, I didn’t want to be Crazy J.
He backed up and I missed his heat. With a light touch, he spun me around. “What’s wrong?”
I looked into his green depths,
